Princess of the Day
by PineappleApproves
Summary: In the Aen Elle capital Tir Ná Lia, a noble family celebrates their daughter's fifth spring with a lavish banquet. Invited are the highest of Tir Ná Lia's inhabitants, but Elaria has no interest in them. She intends to celebrate in the way a child ought to. But as the evening darkens, her family's buried secrets begin to come to light. [Complete]


The inquiry made by the child elicited a sigh from him, though by contrast a stately smiled adorned his face as he watched two handmaidens wrestle the ruffly, multi-layered dress over his daughter.

"Why not host a grand gala? It is your birthday, en'ca minne. Is that not an occasion worth resplendent celebration?"

"But I haven't—." The little girl quickly cut off when her voice was muffled by the frilly lace that covered her head. As soon as her head popped through the collar, she continued, "—haven't enough friends for a big party!" The handmaidens spun her around so they could wrap the sash around her waist. Galanth watched one of the women tie the ends into a large, extravagant bow.

"It's not just your friends, little one. Your mother and I have invited ours as well."

The little girl was once again steered until she faced her father. Her handmaidens crouched down to adjust the lace on her sleeves. Galanth saw Elaria's tiny button nose wrinkle disdainfully. "I don't want _old_ people at _my_ birthday!" she pouted.

"Ella," Galanth said, hiding his desire to laugh by putting on a stern look, "these people are important. The blue blood of Tir ná Lia society. So you must, _must_ behave yourself tonight, okay?"

"But it's _my_ birthday!"

"I know it is, en'ca minne." The handmaidens finished fixing the child's dress and both stepped back from her. Galanth held his arms out and Elaria quickly scurried into them to be picked up. The dress crinkled loudly. They walked out of the little girl's bedroom and headed down the hall. Elaria stuck her fingers into the collar of her dress. Galanth pulled her hand away.

"It's itchy," she protested.

"Remember what I told you, Ella. Behave tonight."

Elaria huffed as she roughly scratched up the length of her arm. Galanth yanked her arms apart and one-by-one set them against her side. "You'll tear the lace," he scolded her.

 _"I'm itchy!"_ She wrapped her arms around her father's neck and rested her chin on his shoulder, scowling. "Why do I have to wear this horrible thing?"

"I think you look beautiful in it," Galanth said, reaching up to adjust a jeweled pin in the little girl's pale golden hair—the exact shade that colored his own locks.

"But this is my birthday! I should wear whatever I want!" She suddenly straightened up to look her father in the eye. "Dadi," she said, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous light, "what if I came out wearing _nothing?"_

Galanth couldn't help but laugh at his daughter's bizarre thought. "Then you'd give your birthday guests quite the shock!" he answered. "And you'd do something horrible to your poor mother's heart."

The mention of her mother drained Elaria's face of her former joy. "She'd get really mad, wouldn't she?" the little girl said in a hushed voice. Galanth reached up to put a reassuring hand over her cheek, but she quickly ducked her face onto his shoulder again. For a while, they walked in silence. Then, Elaria turned her face towards her father's head.

"Dadi?"

"Hm?"

"Does Mama love me?"

The rhythm in his walk grew irregular for just one step, and then it resumed. "Why… do you ask, en'ca minne?"

"Mama doesn't smile," Elaria whispered into Galanth's ear, as though she were afraid someone might overhear. "She always seems mad at everyone, even you. I'm worried Mama doesn't love me."

Galanth stopped. He looked the little girl square in the face. She stared back with those beautiful, bright eyes. "Ella minne," he said, "she's not mad. Not at you, not at me. She's just… well, she's upset. Remember what I told you? The thing I told you to keep a secret?"

Elaria's eyes widened. "The bad thing that happened to Mama's—."

"Shh," Galanth shushed softly. "Yes, that 's why she's upset."

"But that was a long time ago."

"I know." Galanth patted her head, feeling the silken strands brush against his palm. "But remember that she acts the way she does because of that. She loves you very much, en'ca minne, as do I."

Elaria leaned forward and hugged his neck again. "Okay Dadi."

"En'ca minne, would you like to hear another secret?" The little girl's head sprang back up.

"Yes!"

"Okay," Galanth murmured, keeping his voice soft, "but you must promise never to let anyone know that a single word of this was uttered between us, yes?"

"On my heart!" Elaria promised, placing a hand over her chest.

"Wrong side, en'ca minne." Galanth plucked up her hand and placed it over the other side of her chest. "The heart is over here."

"Uh oh!" the little girl said sheepishly. "What did I promise on then?"

"I'm not sure… a lung, perhaps?"

"Then I promise on my lung!"

A deep chuckle rumbled from the child's father. "Well that works too, I suppose." He shifted the girl so that she faced him instead of his shoulder. "Did you know, little one, that the bad thing allowed your mother and I to wed?"

If Elaria's eyes could have gotten any wider, they would have swallowed the whole world. "Really?"

"Even the rain brings flowers, it seems. Your mother had been set on the course to marry another man. I'm afraid I hardly stood a chance in comparison. Then it happened, and your mother broke off the engagement. That's when I was finally able to catch her eye. I should be thankful for the dark miracle that occurred but, well, it's much too woeful."

Elaria shook her head. "I don't want anyone else to be my Dadi!"

"And I wouldn't ask for anyone else to be my en'ca minne." He reached up to stroke her hair, careful not to dislodge any of her hairpins. "I think we've stalled long enough. Your mother will be wondering where we are."

Elaria bounced gently with each step her father took. She once again perched her chin atop his shoulder. "Is he going to be there?" she asked in a hushed voice. "The one who was going to be my Dadi?"

Galanth shushed her again. "Remember—we never said a single word of this," he reminded her. Elaria pursed her lips as her fingers snaked into her collar to relieve her tingly neck. They came to a set of delicately carved doors. Two attendants pushed open the double doors for them. Just beyond, a tall woman in a long, midnight blue evening gown stood waiting. Her long, dark hair fell between her shoulders. She turned when the doors opened, the shimmery hem of her dress dancing just over her ankles. The gown ended midway up her neck, and the sleeves extended into wide points on the back of her hands. Delicate chains of crystal draped in loops over her shoulders. A matching circlet adorned her head.

Her face was stony as she regarded the pair. "Most of the guests have already arrived," she told them, her melodic voice tainted with harshness. "Would you have them waiting all night?"

"It's Ella's birthday, love," Galanth sighed as he gently lowered Elaria to the ground. The little girl reached up to pry her father's hand open and slip hers into his palm. "Can we please keep this to a minimum tonight?"

Elaria heard her mother take a deep, slow breath. Then, the woman reached down to swipe her fingers softly over the little girl's cheek. "Ai'hier la'as, Ella."

"Thank you, Mama."

Galanth stepped away from Elaria and placed a hand on the curve of his wife's waist. "You look wonderful, Imris," he said quietly to her. She tilted her head back to meet his kiss. As Imris leaned back, her eyes flickered down. "Do not pull that kind of face, Ella," she chided. Galanth looked down too. Elaria's nose was wrinkled tightly in a grimace.

"What is it, en'ca minne?"

"You're not supposed to kiss!" she fussed.

Imris took her by the hand. "Enough complaining," she said. "We are going downstairs." As her mother led her down the curved steps, Elaria noticed how her dark blue gown draped over the stairs. She, on the other hand, had hiked her dress up to her knees with her free hand. However, that hand was quickly pulled away by her father.

"Mama, did you invite Cybela?" she asked as she was led through the entrance hall.

"Yes."

"Fedelum?"

"Yes, Ella."

"Leda too?"

"Ella." Imris's voice held a warning. The little girl quieted down.

The gala was being held at the back of the estate, in the long, rectangular gallery which also opened up to the gardens. Elaria could hear the murmurs of voices echoing off the gallery's vast ceilings and walls. She could tell a _lot_ of people were there, and suddenly began to feel shy. She sidled closer to her mother as they approached the tall double doors leading to the gallery. Once again, a pair of servants pulled open the doors for them.

Beyond was a setting she was not unfamiliar with. Her parents often hosted gatherings like this one. The gallery was peppered with people, idling about in small groups. Servers zigzagged fluidly between the slow-moving masses, slowly relieving their trays of small delicacies and collecting empty glass flutes.

What Elaria was unfamiliar with was the immediate silence that rolled through the gallery as the doors opened. Faces, too many faces, turned towards them. Frightened, Elaria turned towards her mother and hid her face in the folds of the woman's dark gown.

Her mother said something to the assembly. Elaria couldn't tell what she was saying partially because the way her mother spoke now was different to how she would usually address the little girl. Her words had become firm and slow, and the few words Elaria managed to catch were too big for her to understand. But mostly, she was too busy being embarrassed and timid to listen.

After a while, she felt someone tugging her arm. It was her father. She realized the gathered crowd had resumed their socializing.

"Come away from your mother, en'ca minne. She has some people she needs to meet with," he told her gently. Elaria slipped away from the refuge of Imris's gown and let her father tug her to his side. "Why don't we go out into the gardens?"

Elaria nodded and, this time, pressed herself against Galanth's black breeches. But there were no ruffles or folds on her father's clothes to hide in.

"There's no need for such bashfulness, Ella. These people have come to wish you a joyous year and celebrate this day with you." Gently, Galanth tried to get her to raise her face with little success. "En'ca minne, we can't go to the gardens with you attached to my leg like a barnacle."

Reluctantly, Elaria stepped away from her father's leg. She let him take her hand and lead her to the back of the gallery where the garden entrance was. The gardens were an artistic combination of greenery, stonework, and waterwork. Creeping thyme covered a wide fountain nearly up to the water, coloring the stone entirely in magenta blooms. Trellises were laced with vines, their pointed leaves, and bright red flowers. A small, artificial stream burbled through the garden, cascading down into wider and wider waterfalls until it eventually fed into a shallow pond. Small, colorful fish darted just beneath the surface, nipping at the fallen leaves of the willow tree that draped over the water.

Most of the garden's grassy surface was covered in small, circular tables and large, lacy parasols. Larger tables stood around the edge, decked in assorted sweets and gifts. Elaria's eyes immediately snapped to the table of gifts her childish mind automatically assumed were all hers and tugged her father's hand.

"It is not proper to root through people's gifts in front of them, en'ca minne," Galanth told her quietly. He led her in a different direction. "We'll go see some of my colleagues. Would you like that?"

"From the theatre?"

"Yes, from the theatre," Galanth replied as he maneuvered them both through the packed gardens. Many, upon passing, wished the child a happy birthday. As her mother had taught her, Elaria smiled up at them and gave them a recited thanks. She had no idea who any of them were.

Finally, they reached a coterie of men. They were surcoats of various colors, their material so fine they nearly shimmered in the flickering torchlight. Beneath their surcoats, they wore studded, ornate doublets. Thick gold belts looped around their waists, pinning the loose surcoats to their bodies.

"Speak of the devil," one of the men exclaimed as father and daughter approached. "We were just talking about you!"

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Galanth replied smoothly. He guided Elaria in front of him, and once again the girl felt the overwhelming urge to hide in her mother's dress.

"Ah, the little princess graces us with her presence!" another man, a man with hair darker than her mother's said. Elaria regarded him with her big, grey eyes.

"Is Mama a queen now?" she asked innocently.

The man she addressed looked at the others, and then back at her again. "Pardon?"

"Mama has to be a queen for me to be a princess," Elaria stated.

"Well aren't you an observant little one!" the black-haired elf replied, crouching down to become level with the little girl. "Forgive us, Elaria, for we are champions of the stage and, thus, sometimes fall victim to our own imaginations."

"Champions of the stage," another repeated with ridicule in his voice. "Stop trying to fluff yourself up, Italus. Just say 'actor.'"

"Mama and Dadi just call me Ella," Elaria said, pinching her hands together behind her back.

"Is that what you prefer?"

"Mmhmm."

"Very well. A joyous day to you, Ella. I can't help but ask—do you remember me at all?"

Elaria stared at the man whom the others had called Italus for a moment. She didn't recognize him at all. A little voice in her head, the one that parroted her mother, told her she ought to nod out of courtesy. But her childish honesty seized her and she shook her head no instead.

"That doesn't surprise me. After all, last we met, you were but a little red face within a bundle." Elaria didn't know what that meant. All she knew was that she didn't know this man, but he was one of her father's friends. She began to wonder where her own friends were. Then, the man spoke again. "I was there for your mother and father's wedding. I remember simply being overwhelmed by the feeling of disbelief. How our dear Galanth managed to call a woman like that his own is something I still don't quite understand." Beside them, Galanth shifted. Italus's eyes flickered up to him, and then back to Elaria. "Ah, forget what I just said, Ella."

"Mama and Dadi love each other," Elaria defended, careful to keep her father's secret to herself. Her remark drew a few chuckles from the other men.

"That they do," Italus replied. He cupped Elaria's round face in his hand, giving her chin a wiggle. "You've got your father's golden tresses and your mother's loveliness. I say your little one's destined for the stage, Galanth."

"Not quite," Galanth replied. "Imris plans to take her as an apprentice."

"Her apprentice? Really? I… see. A shame. She would truly glow. Well, ai'hier la'as, little one." Italus stood to reattain his place in the conversation. Elaria stood around and idly played with the frills of her dress while she listened to the men talk.

"So when will the masses be delighted with another Galanth Melaós-Tyrs work? You know they'll be aching to see something fresh by summer's end."

"Then I'm afraid another playwright will have to alleviate that ache. They'll get no more from me."

"Are you saying you've given up the pen?"

"If you saw the number of discarded drafts in my study, you'd understand. My lines are growing dull—like a withered, heavy-jointed old buck that needs to be put down. Don't look at me like that, Cael. I shan't lock myself away and condemn myself to be a hermit. I think I'll return to the stage—bring life to writing another way. Besides, that—what is it, en'ca minne?" Galanth looked down at the little girl tugging on his hand.

"I'm bored. I want to go find Cybela," she told him.

"Go to your mother first," Galanth replied, much to Elaria's disappointment. He called over a servant to have them bring the child to Imris. The servant gently led Elaria away, and Galanth turned back to his company.

As they walked, Elaria turned her head. She spotted a gaggle of children by the table of sweets and recognized a few of them. She pulled back on the servant's hand. "I want to go over there!" she said, pointing at the table.

"In a bit, little miss," the servant told her. "We need to find Lady Imris first."

Elaria stamped her foot and smacked her dress, causing it to crinkle loudly. "Mama's busy and Cybela's over there!" she pouted. "Why can't we go there now?"

"Lady Ella, please—." Something caught the servant's eye, and she immediately quieted down. Elaria looked to see a familiar looking pair approach them.

"My little pearl, you look absolutely darling," purred the woman, her timeless features belying her vast age. She daintily opened her arms and let the little girl hurry over to give her a hug. "How are you, my dear?"

"I'm well, Naina," Elaria answered as she felt her grandmother's hand sweep over her hair, and then come around to gently pull the girl's head up.

"You look lovelier with each passing year. Dear, you're looking like your mother more and more." She made no comment on the color of Elaria's hair, only ended her sentence with a pleasant smile.

Next, Elaria turned her attention to the man standing next to her naina. "Hello Taidi," she greeted. Her grandfather had the blackest hair she had seen on any person, though gray was starting to creep in from his temples.

"Hello, and a wonderful birthday to you, my little gemstone. Your naina and I have brought a gift for you." One of his gold-cuffed hands lifted to flag someone over. A servant came immediately to the call, carrying a flat pillow with both hands. Perched atop the pillow was a feline creature—a miniature jaguar-like animal with a gray pelt and spots that reminded Elaria of the dark, iridescent stones that sat on her nightstand.

At the sight of the lounging creature, the little girl let out a soft gasp. "Is it a boy or girl?" was her first question.

Her grandfather gave the feline an inquisitive look. "Not quite sure," he said. "I shall ask the sage that brought it over. This animal isn't from this world—did you know that?"

"You took it from its home?" Elaria said sadly.

"It has a home here, a better home," her grandfather replied. Then he looked to the servant and said, "Take it inside." Elaria hadn't even had a chance to pet it or name it.

"Little pearl, where is your mother?" her grandmother suddenly asked. Elaria looked up at the servant that had led her here. The girl gave a courteous bow of her head before answering, "Lady Imris is inside the gallery."

"And where is…?" the woman's voice trailed off, though her tone was extremely indicative.

"Lord Galanth is out here in the gardens."

Elaria's grandmother gave the area around them a sweep of her eyes, then said, "Take us inside."

"Of course."

Despite her efforts, Elaria found herself being led back into the gallery. She looked up at the people around her, trying to find the dark blue of her mother's gown. However, before they could find her, Elaria's grandparents stopped suddenly to greet another couple they apparently recognized. The servant stopped with them, and Elaria found her chance to slip quietly through the crowd and escape.

She weaved through a number of elegantly dressed bodies and stopped in her tracks when a server crossed her path. The little girl looked up, wondering what the dark swirling liquid in the glasses he was carrying tasted like. It must be good, otherwise why would everyone here be so fond of it?

Then her ears picked up on a voice—her mother's voice.

"—too busy to attend."

"This is a very special occasion, wouldn't you agree? It would be a crime to miss."

Elaria stepped passed a woman covering her mouth to laugh and saw her mother standing by the wall with someone. A glass of the dark liquid was in one of her hands, and the other was being held delicately up by her company. He, like everyone else, was dressed crisply and extravagantly. The man looked rather pleasant and approachable to Elaria, though her mother looked less than pleased to be in his presence.

The man lifted Imris's hand to his lips, handling it as though it were made of glass. He lowered his head to place a polite kiss over her knuckles, though Elaria noticed the way his lips lingered on her skin for a touch too long.

Imris seemed to notice too. The corners of her lips twitched into a smile that did not convey any joy. Her hand slipped from his, and the glass was quickly switched into it. They spoke again. Elaria turned around. She didn't know why, but something about her mother and the man she was with made her anxious. Whenever she felt nervous, she would go to her father. And that's what she did.

He was still in the garden, still surrounded by his friends from the theatre. Their laughter wafted through the air. Elaria hurried over. They seemed to be having a good time. One of the men clapped Galanth grandly on the shoulder. When she got to her father's side, she tugged on his hand. Galanth seemed surprised to see her, and glanced around.

"En'ca minne, I thought I told you to go to your mother. She's inside the gallery."

"Dadi, there's—." Someone else started talking to Galanth. He waited just long enough for them to finish before looking back down at Elaria and hurriedly saying, "Inside, Ella." To emphasize his words, he gave her a gentle push towards the estate.

Elaria huffed and decided to hurry back into the gallery on her own. When she did, she found that her mother was no longer by the wall.. Nor the man. She wandered around the gallery, looking for the dark blue that was indicative of her mother. When she found it, Imris was conversing with a couple. Elaria went over. As she approached, she saw her mother's eyes flicker briefly towards her before returning to her company.

"If your lord and ladyship would be so gracious as to allow me to change the subject," Imris proclaimed softly, a layer of velvet draped over her voice, "may I introduce tonight's honorary guest? Ella, to me please." The little girl obeyed. When she reached her mother, Imris gently put a hand behind Elaria's shoulder and turned her towards the couple. "My daughter, Elaria. Dear, this is Lord and Lady Aineias Dáire. Lord Aineias Dáire is the head of the Ministry of Justice." Two pairs of eyes fell on her. Elaria clumsily grabbed the sides of her dress and popped down in a brisk curtsy.

"You've such a sweet child, Lady Imris. Ai'hier la'as, Elaria."

"You're too kind," Imris said before Elaria could reply. "Lady Aineias Dáire, your granddaughter is around Elaria's age, is she not?"

"Indeed. Seven springs, I believe."

"I'm sure Elaria would love to meet her."

Elaria looked up at her mother. Why would she want to meet a girl she'd never met? Imris and her guests showed no sign of ending their conversation. Elaria reached up and timidly tapped her mother's idle hand. "Mama," she said as quietly as she could. "Cybela is outside. Can I—?"

"Elaria, love, please do not interrupt our esteemed guests," Imris said. Her voice was as gentle as ever, but there was a well-hidden rigidness in her words.

Elaria stood awkwardly next to her mother as the adults continued to talk. Her gaze brushed over the rest of the gallery. The little girl wondered if she could slip off on her own to find Cybela. A little voice inside of her told her it was rude. She was in the presence of Lord and Lady… something or another.

Another loud voice caused Elaria to look up. Someone else had joined them. Suddenly, everyone turned away from her to greet the newcomer.

"Ah, Felas, come and meet Lady Imris—the mastermind behind Tir ná Lia's fine establishments."

"Ah, King Auberon's Architect!"

Though she could no longer see Imris's face, Elaria could practically see the icy smile her mother had on to hide her true reaction to that remark. "I work with His Majesty, not under."

Elaria turned and made her escape. Her departure had gone unnoticed, but that was not surprising. When her mother wasn't absorbed in her work, she was too busy talking to other people to really notice Elaria at all.

Her stomach was rumbling, but her parched tongue was more bothersome. Elaria wondered if there was anything being served beside that strange dark liquid. She wanted a glass of mango nectar, but normally the servers weren't busy with this many guests.

Suddenly, she caught the familiar sight of pale hair and black breeches. She hastened over to her father and tugged on the hem of his steel gray tunic. "Dadi, I'm thirsty! Can we go get something to drink?"

Her father turned and looked down at her. No, wait…

Elaria gasped. The man looking down at her wasn't her father. His hair was pale, but it wasn't golden. And her father wore dark red, not steel gray. She realized this was the man who had been talking to her mother. Elaria let out a squeak that was supposed to be an apology and scurried away to lose herself in the crowd. She fled out into the gardens. It was largely empty now—as the sun set and allowed the darkness of the night to overcome the meager torches, most of the guests had moved inside to the well-lit gallery. The other children who had been by the tables were gone as well. The tables were empty and the gifts were gone. The sight of it made Elaria sad, and she suddenly felt alone.

Elaria wandered around the bare gardens, listening to the burbling of the stream. She went to the table where the gifts had once sat and thought of the pet her grandparents had given her. What was she going to name it? Well, first she had to know whether it was a boy or girl, and her taidi said he would find out. She wondered if she would get to play with it, and whether her mother would let it sleep in her bed.

There was nothing left for her out here. Elaria gave in and returned to the gallery. This time, something was different. There was a growing convention gathering at the other side of the gallery. Obviously, something interesting was happening there, and Elaria wanted to know what it was.

"En'ca minne, there you are."

Elaria looked back to see her parents standing together. A glass of amber liquid was in her father's hand. Her mother had her hands folded over each other and was staring over at the assembly with an expressionless face.

The little girl pointed over at them. "What's over there?" she demanded. She grabbed her father's hand and pulled at it. "Can we go see?"

"Of course, en'ca minne, but please exhibit a bit of patience. Shall we go, dearest?" Galanth offered his arm to Imris. She looked silently at him, and then slipped her arm through his. Elaria darted ahead of them as they made their way over to the crowd. Galanth and Imris stayed towards the edge of the gathering while Elaria impatiently circled around the outer edge. She still couldn't see what everyone was so interested in, but she could hear them making remarks about whatever it was.

"Masterful combination of hues."

"Yes, truly a pinnacle of creativity."

Elaria ran back to her parents as fast as her ruffly dress would allow her. "Dadi, what are they looking at?" she asked. Galanth, however, wasn't paying attention to her. He glanced at his wife. Imris's brow was furrowed. Her hand on Galanth's arm was tight.

"I believe there are a few individuals I have not yet spoken to tonight," Imris said, sliding her arm away. "You and Ella can remain here if you wish."

"I think Ella's dying to know what the fuss is about," Galanth said, glancing over at the little girl who was still trying to peer through the crowd. Imris gave the crowd one last tight-lipped glare before walking away, her gown gliding against the floor.

Elaria ran back to her father and held her arms out, silently demanding to be picked up. Galanth shook his head. "Not in front of the guests, en'ca minne," he told her quietly. He beckoned her with a hand and walked towards the crowd. Many had already lost interest and peeled away to rejoin other conversations. Elaria finally managed to weasel her way through. When she came up to the front, she stopped and stared wordlessly.

The thing that had been at the center of attention was a wide painting. The image was of a woman in a flowing dress riding sidesaddle, and it was… well, Elaria didn't like it at all.

She was so entranced by the canvas, she didn't notice how her father managed to emerge from the crowd behind her. Nor did she notice how her father and the man standing close by, the one donned in steel gray, quickly locked eyes. And even if she had, she wouldn't have been able to understand what was going on—not the quick-drawn emotions that either men were spurred with for the briefest of moments, nor the reason why her father was the first to break his eyes away.

The other looked down at the child and spoke, finally making his presence known to her. "Well, little one? Is it to your liking?" The little girl looked up at him, and he noticed how gray her eyes were. Just like her mother's.

"Did you make that?" Elaria pointed at the canvas.

"I did. What do you think?"

Elaria looked back at it. After a second of looking it over again, the little girl's face was suddenly twisted into a grimace. "I don't like it," she stated plainly. Behind her, a few onlookers gasped quietly. Galanth choked on his sip of brandy. "Are you sure you made it?"

"Ella," Galanth snapped sharply, now recovered.

The man in steel gray held up his hand. "Let her voice her views undeterred," he said. "To an artist, an honest opinion is worth more than gold. Well, my dear? What is it about my work that disagrees with you?"

"I don't think horses look quite like that," Elaria said, absently reaching down and swishing her dress as she spoke. "And that lady—her face is kind of scary. Why is everything shaped so strangely?"

"I see. Your point is fair, my dear, but let me ask you this: look around you, and what do you see? Is our world not commanded by shapes?" Elaria did as she was told and turned her head this way and that. Then she looked back up at him and nodded. "Shapes already existing, predefined. When you've seen them for as long as I have, it gets to be a little tiring. These are shapes you see every day, so why waste fine canvas space repeating what your eyes tell you? Here…" He beckoned towards the painting. "Here is freedom to redefine what you see. Do you understand, little one?"

Elaria nodded.

"Very good. You are a clever one… Clever, just like your mother."

"I saw you talking to Mama."

"Ah."

Elaria looked back for her father, but he was no longer standing there. In fact, the people gathered around had completely dissipated back into the gallery. It was just the two of them. Elaria noticed out of the corner of her eye that the man was still looking down at her. She glanced back to meet his gaze. There was something strange about his eyes. Elaria couldn't tell what it was.

"Who is your father?" he asked, his voice utterly soft, "and what does your mother see in him?" It was almost as if he wasn't talking to the child at all.

Elaria crumpled her dress in her hands. She suddenly felt the need to defend her father. "Mama loves Dadi," she said defiantly, "very much."

The man's eyes switched to the floor, and then returned to the painting. "Does she now?"

"Uh huh."

He didn't reply. His eyes remained on the canvas, on the woman atop her horse. Elaria looked back at it too. She wondered why the man had suddenly gone so silent. She twiddled her hands together, wondering if it was okay to leave now. She had just turned her shoulders when he spoke up again.

"Your father," he said. "Does he treat you well?"

It was an odd question, and Elaria didn't know what to make of it. "Yes."

"That is good." The conversation was clearly over. He turned away and left her there. Elaria took one last look at the woman in the flowing gown before running off to find Cybela and the rest of her friends.


End file.
